


What We Achieve

by flinchflower



Series: Slash Me Twice [69]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Hunters, M/M, Survival Training, Training, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-28 23:31:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 68: Revenge.   Left to their own devices while Grey Fox Running trains Sammy's psychic abilities, John and Dean work on woodscraft and tracking - training hunters. Toronto Arc continues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Achieve

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not for profit, simply a writing exercise. Herein lies Dean/Sam slash, in an AU timeline where John did not lose his life. John appears in parental context only. Follows in series from previous prompts, but stands alone if preferred.

Dean sits in the tall pine, assessing the situation at hand. He’s tracked John through the wilderness, avoiding the astonishing number of traps set for him, they’ve been out for about six hours now, and he knows John must be tired. At least, John’s been tired by this point in the day since they got here, so it may be an advantage, but he’s not going to count on it, just watch for it. John is currently laid out in a meadow, concealed by tall grasses, having a nap. 

Now, Dean knows better than to think that Dad would just lay down and have a nap in the wilderness, so once he spotted his father from his lookout post, he stayed up there, and started observing the land around the older man. Using a spiral search pattern, as a matter of fact, because for some reason he could keep track of findings on one of those better than he could on a grid. Sammy was the grid person, not him.

John is a little restless, and Dean understands full well that his father can feel his eyes on him, and in the immediate area. This will not be an issue, because he’s started his visual assessment right at his father’s prone body, and is moving away. And yes, they are there. Obviously this is yet another of the places where John’s been building up fortifications. Or, rather, John and Grey Fox, because there’s no way John could do that much on his own. Dean suspects some of them are permanent, and that other hunters train on this ground, because the camouflaged sloping man sized pit that he stepped into and gently rolled down yesterday, that was not a quick job. Not to set it up that carefully so that whoever got caught by it wouldn’t be injured, aside from a few bruises.

He’s got half a dozen traps around John’s immediate perimeter, and he’s dying to go down and try and breach that line, but he’s not done yet. Oh no. There could be another dozen between the edge of the meadow and the tree Dean is currently perching in, and then he’s also looking for the wildlife that might give him away as well. Identifying a number of other traps, he maps a way through them, and lets his eyes drift over John. His father has settled back into sleep. Checking his watch, Dean estimates that John should sleep for another hour or so. He shimmies down the tree and strikes out towards his father.

It’s slow going, at best. Noise traps. Pit traps. Animals to avoid. He stalks quietly towards the older hunter, keeping to low cover, monitoring his breathing. Steps cautiously over intricate tripwires that will send something heavy crashing to the ground – not on Dean himself, but the noise would be horrendous in the quiet woods and meadow. It‘s nearly at the hour mark when he clears the last one. He steals moments to breathe, silently, and proceeds through the grasses, directly to John’s head, debating as he skulks through the trail John had used himself, watching the trail instead of his father. It was clear, and moments later, he walks up to his father – who is, miracle of miracles, snoring lightly. He straddles the older man and crouches down, and when he is just scant inches from John’s sleeping body he finally tenses and drops. 

His hands slam into pressure points on John’s shoulders, and one knee into more on the older man’s thighs, and he has the distinct pleasure of watching his father wake with a roar, not able to move. Dean’s lighter, and won’t be able to hold him for long, but it would be long enough. He just has to get past John’s moment of panic, which… five, four, three, two-

“Dean!” It’s a barked command, shaded with anger, and the boy ignores it, simply shifting his weight around so that the pressure on sensitive nerves is released, and moving to kneel beside his dad, hands still pressing lightly on John’s shoulders. _Disable,_ he thinks, but he doesn't say it aloud. He waits, revenge complete.

John assessed his oldest boy, his hunter, as the pain faded. Not the best idea for Dean to take, pinning him like that – but then again, he didn’t think Dean was aware that John on rare occasions had flashbacks to Vietnam. John had been hiding that one for a lifetime. He flexed the feeling back into his arms, not pushing back against the boy. He was still thinking. The boy was watching him, dispassionately and intensely, and John felt the rush of pride flood through him. He brought his hands up to Dean’s shoulders, and let a smile creep across his face. 

“Got the jump on your old man, eh?”

A wide grin breaks out over Dean’s face, and the kid relaxes, giving John his opening. It was well worth the wait to see the surprise as John bucked up, tossing the kid up, and then slammed him over his lap as he sat up, taking some small revenge of his own. Dean gives a panicked squeak. Dean's father lets the hearty laugh the boys don’t hear very often enough go, and rests a hand on the small of his son’s back.

“That was a hell of a way to wake up from a nap, Dean,” he chuckled, and helped his son to sit up. He wasn’t happy with the now wary look on Dean’s face. “Now,” he said, clasping his shoulder warmly. “Point out where you came from and what route you took – you shouldn’t have been able to get to me, boy, and I want to know how you did it.” There. There was the shy, pleased look he was hoping for. If he was lucky, he could pull Dean into a conversation that would last a while. It was long overdue.

**Author's Note:**

> Blue Stone - Only One


End file.
